#49 – Deactivating Facebook

In 2011, my senior year of high school, one of my close friends opted to not come back to our school for his final year and instead chose to do cyber school which meant, because of how much time he already spent working and playing a little game called war of warcraft, I was going to lose contact with him. Now, at the time, I had known this friend since we were toddlers, through church and later on school, it seemed too important to let that friendship fade into nothingness just because of change of life. I knew there was one modern way to stay connected, a way I dreaded and had put off as long as possible – Facebook. And so in 2011, I bit the bullet and got one.

I instantly regretted my decision.

All of a sudden my feed was filled with information overload in the way only social media can with details that honestly make you feel a bit insecure, like realizing, I knew I was a bit of an outsider at school but oh my, a lot of parties and social events were happening that weren’t on my radar that were now showcased page after page. Suddenly, the peace and tranquility of my quiet introverted life, one connected to people outside classmates, was gone. Poof. I felt a comparison. I felt lacking. I felt lame. A person missing the plot that everyone else got. Who were these people I thought I knew?

Was I doing this all wrong? Should I have more friends? The friend count, the status symbol of ye olde Facebook, some of my fellow friends had 1000s of friends and I was struggling to think of 100 people I knew well enough to add. The profile picture, the clever status updates, the albums upon albums of photos of normal days and things. What was this weird and aspirational world? And where did my feeling of contentment go? In an instant, it left me like a hat on a windy day.

I look back on this feeling and wish I had rolled the dice on keeping in touch through email or text because that friendship didn’t last once we entered college and went our separate ways, but those feelings of insecurity and comparison, they took root. Not just me, but I think all of us are waking up to this and how social media is stealing our joy and our world from what it can be.

After all, we know now that Facebook is a terrible way to keep friendships going, except we didn’t know that yet. I mean I think everyone over the age of 60 at the time knew it was not a replacement for having a social life, but we like intrepid explorers too cocky to listen to the warning that the river was going to turn into a waterfall went tally-ho onward into the mist and went over the waterfall. And now with our broken bits of boat and sputtering of water in our lungs, we see our friends float by us in the river and yet just like the metaphor, we are unable to link arms because the current of the algorithm is taking us where it wants to. Unhappy and alone, we arrived in 2024 and it was time for me to climb ashore.

I was watching the first season of the Great British Bake Off with Mary Berry, Paul Hollywood, Sue Perkins, and Mel Giedroyc, circa 2010 and I felt this overwhelming yearning to go back, back to 2010. Like this scene in Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice where Elizabeth sees Mr. Darcy appear in the fading mist of dawn.

I thought about this, why did I feel such a strong pull toward this time? I don’t particularly love the fashion of this period nor was it the most exciting time of my life, it was high school for goodness sake with the season of SATs and college applications. But it was strung together with moments of deep authenticity, real connections, and life spent living in real life instead of online. I spent my days with real people, not a screen with someone behind the screen talking to me. It was real and my world, with my people. I wasn’t worrying about FOMO or what other people were doing, I didn’t consider what other people were doing if I wasn’t there or how I should be spending my time compared to what other people were doing. I was just living. It was before social media had its claws into me and the world.

I remember the world being less performative, less homogenous, and more authentic. If someone was cool it was usually because they were doing their own thing and owning it. If someone was pursuing a hobby or a career it was because they had a passion for it, not for social media clout or to be like everyone else. Phones were for texts and phone calls, sometimes photos. At social events, particularly family events and meals, they stayed in your pocket.

If you were using your phone you were actively talking to someone. People knew things and retained information because Google wasn’t at the ready. You had to discuss and determine things through research, using a book or a computer. Photos existed in physical albums, in frames, on fridges, and in wallets. Body dysmorphia existed, but was less of a constant because in person you can’t Photoshop and filter, you have to accept who you are enough to be in person. Trips were shared through home movies, photos, and stories around a table with food and drink.

At that moment, I realized I was done. Done with pretending I like this fake world of connection. I separated my Instagram from my Facebook so that I could continue sharing photos to my Instagram sewing portfolio account, because that is for exposure not connecting, and deactivated my Facebook. I kept Messenger so that three specific people could still reach me and I hit that deactivate button. And I have to say, it felt like a fake haze lifted from my world. That chapter was done and I feel a peace washing over me again.

If it was as easy as leaving one social media platform, what other little swaps could I do to find those things that made the world feel so real and connected before the social media age? That is my next quest. Onward into normal, human connections!

Haiku & Breakfast Valentines

When my husband and I first met, I claimed I hated Valentine’s Day and to be honest, I think it was more annoyance at the emptiness of this day. Valentine’s Day as a commercial commodity sucks. The heart-shaped everything, the push to have the perfect romantic moment, the jewelry ads, the lace, and beyond, it’s a lot. It seems fake.

As a teenager and into college, I was hoping for that perfect K-drama boyfriend to sweep me off my feet. A Mr. Darcy moment with all the intensity of a look or a hand flex. I liked being single until this day, like everyone else, and let societal traditions determine my worth on this day. Which honestly was quite dumb because I had better examples than this.

Card on My Plate

As a kid, living with my grandparents, I knew every Valentine’s Day morning Papa would wake up before us all and put cards on each of our breakfast plates – one for Grandma, one for my Mom, and one for me. This was important for me to see, I realize now, with my Dad out of the picture, it was wonderful to see how pure this expression of love was. He wanted all of us to feel loved and appreciated, and no one left out. Because his actions were driven by affection, each one of us was special to him in different ways, and by including all of us it made the day about love, in the fullest sense.

The tradition continued even after we moved out on our own, and eventually, as our extended family grew to become a whole family tradition where Grandma and Papa put together little gift bags for every person – all 18 of us! These little heartfoil bags had homemade cookies, homemade fudge, chocolate-covered pretzels, etc. It was adorable, even as a moody teenager, this little goody bag brought me a smile. It reminded me that even though I felt like a weirdo on Feb 14 for not having a boyfriend, as soon as I stepped foot in their house, it didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point of this day. I was loved, just as I was, and was special.

Handmade Cards & Poetry

Elizabeth was wrong and Darcy was right, poetry is the food love. Especially if its origins are authentic and well-founded. Like my new tradition with my husband, a handmade card, and a bit of poetry. Now, I requested a handmade card when he asked me last year what I wanted for Valentine’s Day because he is an excellent handmade card maker. He has an intricate eye for stamping and paper crafting. What I didn’t expect but was pleasantly surprised by was his poem.

My husband doesn’t like to write poetry, I do. He has claimed he doesn’t understand it but he does, because he has a wonderful appreciation for song lyrics which to be honest are just another form of poetry.

Darcy: “I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,”
Elizabeth: “Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

So when he surprised me last year with an original poem in my card, it gave me butterflies because it was a brilliant series of verses, tailored to our inside jokes. Of course, I asked for a sequel this year! And did he deliver! For my birthday, he dipped his toes in with an original haiku inspired by a tradition to close episodes of a certain show we adore – James May: Our Man in Japan.

The haiku was incredible in my opinion, it perfectly captured the essence of a moment which I believe is what haiku is about. I’m not talented with haikus, the syllable work has never meshed with my creative process, but my husband’s eye for detail shined in this form. Inside this year’s handmade gem of a card were four haikus! He truly outdid himself and in such a heartwarming way this new tradition reminds me of those delightful little valentines we used to exchange in elementary school.

Be a Valentine of Four Loves

According to C.S. Lewis in his book The Four Loves, there are four distinct types of love to express – Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape.

  • Storge is an empathy bond that originates from affection. The natural love, like between a parent and child.
  • Philia is the friend bond, it is a strong bond built on shared interests. This is the type of love expressed in friendship and between siblings.
  • Eros is romantic love, the sense of being in love compared to just being about sexual attraction and desire.
  • Agape is the expression of unconditional “God” love, also known as charity. It is a love that is steadfast and exists regardless of changing circumstances. It is selfless love.

When I first studied these in college, these four terms were not what I quite expected but they changed the way I see relationships, maturely and more healthily. Actually, learning about Philia helped me realize a crush I was stuck on wasn’t my love, he wasn’t even my friend, he was nothing. But a certain new guy, a new friend (my future husband) I already had philia with after a few months and eros was brewing.

What is my point in sharing this? Well, this day about love is quite narrow-minded in our culture, and my whole life I think the wiser people in my life have been trying to show me this. Now in my romantic relationship, I’m getting the opportunity to express many versions of the four loves. Ironic isn’t it?

This day of love should be more than just a day focused on eros, it has the foundation to build upon to be a day about extending agape love to others. What if this day was not about commercialism but supplying needs, filling the void of loneliness with random acts of kindness, and to the best of our ability expressing unconditional love to our friends and family? This could become a new favorite holiday for many of us!

#45 – Allergy and Winter Winds

I miss humidity, like I really, really do. My skin does. It struggles during this mid-winter stretch. I’m itchy, a desert instead of a moisture barrier, and all my skincare products seem to jump ship at this time of the year. I know I’m not the only one either, there are dozens of us!

Now back in January, we got our deep freeze and oh buddy, it was intense. Like two weeks of pure polar vortex, kind of out of nowhere, yet I always know this will happen. Yet I put off getting ready for it. And I certainly forget to moisturize! Until, POW I wake up to 0 degrees Fahrenheit with a real feel of -9, -18, and simply frigid dry air. My skin freaks out! My tried and true skincare starts to waver, and slowly my toner stops doing its job. Soon, my moisture barrier is a distant memory and my face is red and I’m thinking how did this happen?

This year’s gambit of skincare 2024 had a one-two punch of an allergic reaction to ibuprofen and Maybelline foundation. And boy, oh boy did it catch me by surprise. Big red blisters on my face! It was the strangest experience I’ve had. I didn’t feel like anything was wrong until I looked into the mirror one January night before bed and saw five blisters on my face, adorning my chin and nose. It gave me quite the jump scare!

I’ve had hives, I’ve accidentally layered the wrong skincare serums and given myself a chemical burn (that was last year), but I had never experienced blisters, and truly freaked me out. The blisters had only gotten worse because the Maybelline foundation I wore that day had been burning. I thought it was because my skin was parched and irritated until a quick Reddit search on Maybelline foundation shed light on a reaction that some people have to it.

The goofiest part of this whole experience is that it is always days before my birthday, like a weird tradition I’d like to leave behind but life continues to bring it to the party. Well, could be worse.

I’m thankful all reactions were minor, faded in a few days, and were relegated just to my face. I’m incredibly grateful to have never experienced a dangerous situation due to an allergic reaction. Does this happen to you though, after a situation like that where you feel like you can’t trust your tried and true products or medicine? For a few weeks after I feel like I am still on edge, waiting for it not to be the end. This morning I found razor bumps on my leg, and I was sure something else was making me sick! I feel so silly and yet I let myself wander down the road of what ifs.

If I could make one solid change this year, I’d like to leave my disposition to worry behind this year and move forward in emotional maturity, because I really don’t like how I let myself exist in worry when things are fine. I don’t want to be the kind of person who can’t be happy or ignores the good things right in front of me because the experience with those blisters scared me a bit.

Do you have a penchant for worrying? Are you level-headed and chill? If you are I’d love to be more like you! I hope wherever you are you know that you are safe and know that you are loved. Thanks, dear reader for giving me your time today. ❤

A Pearl, a Girl, and an Oath

Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.

My name Margaret, and middle name Elizabeth were chosen by my mom for her maternal grandmother, Margaret Elizabeth.

As a kid, I truly didn’t enjoy my name. Especially at roll call or meeting a new teacher, there was the Margaret haze that hungover the introduction. My classmates found it to be a funny, old lady name and in response I refused to go by it for years.

It was Maggie or Magz. I couldn’t see the beauty of the gift of the name. It wasn’t a curse, it was a connection to the past.

With maturity, I’ve grown to truly appreciate this name. I’m honored to carry both Margaret and Elizabeth of my great-grandma and grandma. I’ve discovered since those school days that I like being unique. I don’t meet a lot of Margarets. I’ve also had the opportunity to learn that I am a lot like Margaret Elizabeth I and Elizabeth. They both had a passion for sewing, and that has carried down to me.

I researched that Margaret traces back to Old Iranian and means pearl, and Elizabeth derives from the Hebrew Elisheva which means God is my oath.

Kanga Shoes

Come up with a crazy business idea.

In Business 101, we had to develop a product, write a business plan, marketing strategy, and ways to expand. My group developed plan for an innovative athleisure brand – Kanga Shoes.

Like Nike or Adidas, it started with the Kanga shoe. A sneaker with streamlined design for activity, like the mighty kangaroo, it also had a pocket – like a kangaroo. We developed bags and hoodies, because obviously the kangaroo details of the pouch. It was a fun project. One of my favorite memories of freshman year!

Early Winter Soundtrack (2023)

Fashion Industry Commentary – Fashion Roadman

Post Vid-Vid Fist Bump Noises – Drew Joiner

Welcome Christmas – The Whos in Whoville

Born to Be – ITZY

Drama – Aespa

Facebook Messenger Calling Beeps – Brother & Sister-in-Law

Whistling Noises – The Espresso Maker

Winter Falls – Stray Kids

“It’s a Festivus Miracle!” – Seinfeld

Mellow K-drama Soundtrack – Electra Dashwood

Hello My Beautiful Doves – Mina Le

Ripping of Wrapping Paper – Sully, the Yorkie-Bichon

Baggy Jeans – NCT

Call of Elk – Keystone Safari

“Ready. Set. Baaaake!” – Noel & Sandi

LALALALA – Stray Kids

Advent Calendar Cardboard Ripping – Alexandria Ryan

Perfect Night – Le Sserafim

A Quiet, Beagle-less Neighborhood – My Parents’ Street

The Gentle Crunching of Cinnamon Sugar – Monkey Bread

“Not-a-fingah!” – The Old Man in A Christmas Story

The Small Beeps of a Package Scanner – The Mail Carrier

Cake – ITZY

Marv’s Scream – The Tarantula

Birdie Celebration – The Wiggler in Mario Golf

Joyful New Year’s Countdown – Animal Crossing New Horizons

#43 – Sketching While I Listen

My go-to in school, during sermons growing up (being honest here), or even while watching television was to have a notebook in hand and to sketch. Usually, my hand would gravitate first to flowers or stars and then sweep towards the runway and I would sketch fashion designs. I did this from 11 years onward until, I think I started sewing which is ironic because you’d think I’d sketch more now. Lately, during phone conversations, I’ve noticed if I’m not doing chores like dishes or folding laundry while catching up with friends and family or knitting, my hand gets an itch to draw. Yesterday as I sat in my husband’s home office while video calling I grabbed random scrap paper and his pen in order to make sweeping gowns. Why? I think old habits and dang, I noticed my listening skills go up when my hands are busy.

I wouldn’t say I struggle to sit still, I think my mind just tends to wander as I conversate with others, and with the random creative energy swirling in my mind, I begin to feel restless. But as I grabbed that familiar pen and began to sketch my mind became clear and tuned to the topic at hand.

I remember my notebooks in school were adorned with dresses, jackets, and full-collections down the side of my history notes interspersed with a flourish of stars and flowers. When I used to watch movies with my mom growing up I would sketch my favorite pieces from the costume design. I think that’s why I fell in love with Joe Wright’s 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice. I know, that the pieces used in the movies are painfully not Regency Era fashion, but those moments of costume design sparked my imagination as a teenager who loved history and fashion.

I didn’t realize I had stopped doing this as a habit until yesterday, and honestly, I don’t want to stop sketching like that again. I think a new goal in 2024 will be to continue sketching when I watch instead of filling my hands with knitting. There’s a special creativity that seems to come from these moments.

Do you like to multi-task like this? What’s your go-to way to relax?

My Singer Sewing Machine Transformed the Way I Approach Sewing

This is a post of gratitude and retrospect, posted about a month too late but that’s alright. It still counts. I bought my sewing machine a year ago (plus a month) and it has transformed my workflow and productivity while reducing headaches and finger strain.

Sewing By Hand

How you may ask? Well, when I started sewing back in the fall of 2020, money was tight as it was for everyone that year, and machines were out of stock so I started sewing by hand through Bernadette Banner’s tutorials. I kept doing this for a year and a half until I was getting sick of the slow pace, eye strain, finger strain, and lack of structure when it came to making strong seams on thick fabric. My stitches were still elementary and my construction was lacking because the literal sewing process was occupying most of my time.

I’m stubborn and self-destructive in my creative process so I refused to give in and buy one until I was working on my A/W 2022 Collection. I was behind, not finishing things the way I wanted, and downright miserable. My husband who is my best friend insisted that I stop the madness and buy a machine and that’s how I ended up with my pal, Señor Senior Singer.

Why a Heavy Duty Machine?

At first, I was scared of using the machine. I have used three other machines and I didn’t understand how they worked. My mom lent me her 2010’s Brother Machine with a computer stitch function. It had a lot of error messages and broke down. My dad brought me a 1960s Sears and Roebuck machine he found in an attic, it has some serious internal mechanical issues. My Aunt Florence gave me her 2000s Brother machine that has been well maintained and through that experience I got a bit acquainted with the machine sewing process. It was still overwhelming though because I lacked the knowledge to know how to get out of a jam of thread or how to reload that pesky bobin. Don’t even ask me about thread tension or needle type, I was lost.

Through this experience I learned durability, strength of sewing, and lack of computerization was what I was looking for. I want to be able to sew through a tightly woven twill for a coat and yet have the durability to know I can sew for many years. I wanted a machine with reliability that I could count on to not have a computer meltdown during the middle of a delicate project.

Sewing Is Fun Again

A year in, I’m incredibly pleased with the Singer Heavy Duty Machine. It came with a download for a comprehensive user manual and the needles are easy to find and affordable. It has allowed me to finish projects with finesse and speed. In doing so I’ve been able to find balance in my life to write, to knit, to draw, to workout with more regularity, manage the house better and be generally less cranky and frustrated by how my time is being used.

I’m passionate about fashion and this year my desire for the craft has grown. I feel a hunger to level up my skills and create more complicated and beautiful things. The technical part of the sewing process was lifted off my shoulder by Señor Senior Singer and without the space again to get creative, I know I wouldn’t have made as many strides in design and execution as I was able to do. Because honestly, I would have quit in 2023 without the machine. I was so burnt out by the drudgery that is sewing by hand with our modern fabrics.

Thank you, Señor Senior Singer for being in my life a whole year! It’s been a fantastic ride and I can’t wait to see where we taking our sewing together next year!

I Struggle in December

December is a weird month. I like Christmas and in the same breath, all the holiday joy reminds me of loved ones who aren’t with me anymore. The darkness of winter, the time change, and dreary gray days have felt like my mind washing over my environment when I get sad.

My grandma passed away on December 18, a few years ago now. Before she passed, our family holidays moved from being at home to being celebrated at a nursing home because my papa had broken his neck and wasn’t able to recover fully from the injury at 80 years old. The season has felt a little empty now for seven years. It hasn’t been all bad, my husband and I have created new traditions and I’ve found a lot of joy in rejecting the tradition and finding new ways to enjoy the season. Making things and being generous to others, whether in my community or social circle, has been the best way to make this month joyful for me personally.

Potato Technology’s A/W 2022 was about this exact point, I wanted to make things for the people who showered me with love and encouragement as I found my way back from grief to a new normal. The last Christmas season before the pandemic, we made cards for a local nursing home and that is still one of my favorite Christmas memories of the last seven years.

That was the same year my brother came to visit me on Christmas. We never spent a holiday together in our 26 years of being brother and sister. It was cool and also hard to process. I think there will never be enough time or enough normalcy to make my relationship with my brothers feel whole because we didn’t get the chance to have that and had to make our own traditions with our separate moms. My sister’s existence with another mom makes the entire thing more complicated, as I have been both shoehorned into that nuclear family even though I don’t belong and have been passed over for the normalcy of my sister’s two-parent home.

My dad and my stepmom don’t understand boundaries. If I put up a boundary, they tear it down. They even weaponize this time of year to make me feel guilty. Before I cut off contact it was guilt to be at their house in south Georgia for every Thanksgiving and Christmas on my dime. This irks me because they are incredibly rich compared to me and most people in my life and it’s unfair to place these financial and emotional expectations on me. Since I have cut contact because I got tired of the toxic environment, I get a reminder of my failure with a Christmas card and sometimes a present. The card used to come from my dad but as I have not done as he wished, it now comes from his wife and has become more cutting.

I’m not sure if it will come this year but it hangs over my mind as I feel grief that my dad can’t be in my life without hurting me, and if I take a step back from the dysfunction for my own sanity, I receive nasty cards reminding me how it is all my fault. Merry Christmas, you’re failing us as a daughter. In reality, the situation is complicated and I am sure at fault for things but the sheer inability to acknowledge that it takes two people in a relationship to make it or break it baffles me.

I think all this baggage could be why, I am utterly distraught that my friendship with a friend I met in college which was honestly always dysfunctional, and probably better for both of us to go separate ways, has ended abruptly. Even though I saw it coming and was honestly on borrowed time, the fact that it fell apart at this time of the year is bringing me quite low. I don’t understand how it all happened as quickly as it did. Because I’ve lived so many years now with those nasty Christmas cards, I can’t help thinking this is all my fault and that I didn’t mean much to her anyway. Which is crazy because I know that our friendship did mean a lot.

Man, this time of the year is not as holly or jolly as those songs claim. It is complicated because it can’t be perfect like the movies tell us it will be. If you are having a hard time, know that I’m here for you and I’m sending you love through my keyboard because I am not doing well either. Thank you for spending a bit of your day with me.

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